


Winter Only Brings The Dark

by WhoStarLocked



Series: I Will Be [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anger, Angry Cor Leonis, Bad Decisions, Bad Parenting, Birthday, Boxing & Fisticuffs, Bullying, But he does it anyway, Cancer, Child Cor, Child Neglect, Child Soldiers, Childhood, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Cold, Cold Weather, Cor Leonis Needs a Hug, Cor Leonis' Birthday, Cor Lies On His Crownsguard Form, Cor is Too Young to Join, Crimes & Criminals, Crownsguard Training (Final Fantasy XV), Crying, Cute Kids, Depression, Fear, Fighting, Fights, Fist Fights, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Growing Up, Growing up poor, Guilt, Hurt, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, Illegal Activities, Illnesses, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Lies, Loss, Loss of Parent(s), Lying Cor Leonis, Mentions of Cancer, Misery, Misunderstandings, One Shot, Original Character Death(s), Parent Death, Parent-Child Relationship, Poor Cor Leonis, Poor Life Choices, Pre-War, Resentment, Sad, School, Self-Blaming Cor Leonis, Self-Doubt, Small Cor, Snow, Snow Day, Swearing, Tears, Terminal Illnesses, Tree Climbing, Upset Cor Leonis, Wakes & Funerals, Worry, Young Cor Leonis, child swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:00:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25736935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoStarLocked/pseuds/WhoStarLocked
Summary: Cor’s life is great, until four days after his fifth birthday, when his mother dies. From there, it’s pretty much all downhill.Parts of Cor Leonis' childhood. This is a prequel to Don't You Worry Child, but you don't need to read that fic to read this one.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Series: I Will Be [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860319
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	Winter Only Brings The Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone
> 
> So, somewhere about halfway through writing chapter four of Don't You Worry Child, I came up with the (horrible/great) idea of making a series about Cor's life. So here we are! This fic is just going to look briefly at Cor's relationship with his parents, explain a little backstory that is mentioned but not explained in Ch.3 of Don't You Worry Child, and just some moments of his childhood. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

“Cor, stay close!” Mitis laughs, watching as her four-year-old sprints across the abandoned park to the climbing frame he adores so much. She hurries after him, not knowing what her little terror might get up to without supervision. Cor’s an adventurous child, but like all children, he doesn’t heed the dangers around him. She sighs, watching him climb to a worrying height in record speed. He’d grow out of it, she’s sure.

“Look Mommy!” He cries out, jubilation in his tone. “I’m at the top!”

The sheer childish look of joy on his face made her heart melt. Cor’s a cute toddler, with his bright blue eyes and soft locks of dark brown hair, and his boisterous personality only serves to make him more endearing. He’s the textbook definition of a tyke, and she wouldn’t have him any other way. 

“Wow, well done sweetheart!” She answers, trying not to let her worry seep into her face. “Be careful getting down, okay?” 

Cor nods, then, much to Mitis’ horror, he launches himself along the top of the frame. She runs towards the frame, heart in her mouth, so certain he’s going to fall the two or three metres to the ground and hurt himself, but before she even gets close to him he’s somehow managed to secure his grip and he looks down at her, laughing wildly. 

“I’m fine, Mommy!” 

“Cor, don’t do that!” She scolds him, pressing one hand over her racing heart. “You could get hurt!” 

Her son huffs, and Mitis just knows he’s pouting, but he begins to climb across the rest of the frame, rather than jump it. Mitis settles herself down on a nearby park bench, just watching as her son plays. It’s not long before he starts making explosion noises and whisper-shouting nonsense to himself. Gods only know what he’s imagining, but it brings a smile to Mitis’ face all the same. A small pang of sadness hits her as her thoughts turn in a more sombre direction. She won’t take her eyes off Cor, because every second she has with him is precious, and she doesn’t know how much more time she’ll get with him. 

She’s dying. Her cancer treatments are failing, and there’s nothing left to try. The doctors can’t even tell her how long she has left. Between three months and a year, they’d said. Today has been three months since she found out, so the way she sees it, now she’s on borrowed time. Mitis is determined to spend as much of that time as possible building good memories with her baby boy before he’s forced to go through something so horrific as losing a parent at such a tender age. She really shouldn’t be out here today, since her long illness has left her susceptible to everything under the sun, but Cor had begged and begged and she can’t bear the thought of leaving him with only memories of a stern woman who said no all the time. 

She lets him have an hour, then she calls him down. Tristis will be home from work soon, and he’ll only panic if they’re out. She wouldn’t mind, except Tristis doesn’t do panic, instead morphing it into anger and shouting. She doesn’t want to argue with him, and she doesn’t want Cor to feel like it’s his fault the shouting began. 

As they leave the park, Cor offers up his hand and Mitis takes it glady. She praises him gently as they walk along the pavement, and even though she can tell he’s still bursting with energy, he never once complains at the slow pace she sets. 

“Mommy, can we come to the park every day?” Cor asks, blinking up at her. 

Mitis stifles a chuckle as she looks at her son’s wide blue eyes. “Not every day, sweetheart, no.” 

“Aww!”

She squeezes his hand lightly in consolation. She hasn’t been able to bring herself to try and explain what’s going to happen to her, so young Cor doesn’t understand why they’ve stopped going out and about as much. He doesn’t understand why his dad has stopped tolerating anything but perfect behaviour, and why he doesn’t have much time to spend with Cor anymore. 

As they reach the top of their street, she lets him run ahead to their garden, where he races around, waving one hand in the air and jabbing wildly. Playing pirates again, bless him. Mitis takes her time unlocking the door, letting Cor play as long as possible before she ushers him inside. She sets him up at the dinner table with some paper, crayons and a drink then goes about making dinner. 

“Thank you for today, Mommy.” Cor says, smiling brightly at her. 

“You’re welcome, my sweetheart.” She replies, pressing a quick kiss to his brow. She glances down at the picture Cor is focusing on intently. There’s a weird green stick on a yellow blob with two black lines protruding from the bottom. Her curiosity gets the better of her as she frowns. “What’re you drawing?” 

“A cactuar pirate on a chocobo ship with a moogle pet.” He answers her nonchalantly, still colouring away. 

Mitis raises her eyebrows at the explanation. “Oh, okay.” 

She’s not sure where this sudden obsession with pirates has sprung from, but she finds it adorable. She hopes he keeps his wild imagination as he grows. 

* * *

The morning of Cor’s fifth birthday brings with it the first snowfall of the year. The city seems tranquil, wrapped in a muffling layer of white. Everything lies quiet and undisturbed, the weak morning sunlight making the softly falling snowflakes glisten. 

When Mitis goes into Cor’s bedroom, she finds him staring out of his window. His reflection in the glass shows her his wonder as he takes in the blanket of white over the outside world. This is Cor’s first time seeing snow. Mitis is immeasurably grateful she’s been allowed to see this moment, and she’ll treasure it forever in whatever comes after this life. 

“Happy birthday, darling!” She says quietly, joining him at the window. 

“Mommy! My birthday isn’t important! The world’s disappeared!” Cor says, pointing out the window. He’s turned to face her with an incredulous expression, and she can’t help but laugh. 

“Oh, no darling. It’s snow!” Mitis tells him. 

“Snow?” Cor echoes, looking at her with uncertainty. “So the world hasn’t…?” 

“No sweetheart. It’s all underneath the snow.” She explains, smiling at her son. 

Cor looks back to the window with a frown. Mitis ruffles his hair before getting him some clothes out, ready to help him get dressed. 

“Tell you what, after breakfast, you can go out in the garden in the snow, okay?” 

Cor nods, running over to her with his usual enthusiasm restored. He yanks his pyjama top over his head then lifts his hands over his head so Mitis can put his arms in sleeves for him. She makes sure to wrestle him into several layers so he won’t get cold, then hustles him through the rest of his morning routine. With Tristis already at work, and unable to come home until early evening, they’d decided to leave his presents until later, but Mitis helps him open his cards and arrange them on the mantelpiece. 

Once he’s satisfied with the order (a chocobo card has taken pride of place), she helps him put on shoes, then grabs her own coat and scarf so she can watch him play from the doorway. In her fragile state, she shouldn’t really be doing even that. The cold bites at her skin and seeps into her bones, stealing her breath away even as she stays in the warmth of the house.

After a moment’s hesitation, Cor steps out past her, but jumps back in with a gasp when the snow creaks under his feet. 

“It’s alright, Cor, go on.” Mitis says with a grin, ruffling his soft hair. 

“It moved, Mommy!” He tells her, clinging on to her leg tightly. 

“Yes, dear. Snow does move a little bit, but it’s safe. It’s like the sand at the beach. Remember that?” 

Tristis had managed to get a week off in the spring, and they’d taken Cor to Galdin Quay to spend a couple of days at the beach with him, back when her treatments were still working. It had been wonderful, watching him learn how to build a sandcastle, and how he shrieked when a wave hit his legs as he ventured into the sea! Mitis smiles at the memory. 

Cor slowly detaches himself from her side and timidly steps out again. He takes a couple of steps, and when he’s seemingly satisfied that the snow won’t disappear under his feet, he charges around the garden, giggling at the sounds the snow makes as he treads on it. With a grin, Mitis talks Cor through how to make a snow angel, and then a snowman. 

By the time they’ve dressed up the snowman, Cor is starting to shiver, so Mitis ushers him back inside and makes him a hot cup of bovril to warm him up again. She’s not entirely sure why Cor loves the strong drink, but he’d tried Tristis’ last year and - much to their surprise - he hadn’t spat it out in disgust, but rather asked for his own cup. Since then, hardly a day has gone by when Cor hasn’t requested the drink. 

Mitis settles him on the sofa and puts on a Christmas film for Cor while she does some housework, then watches another film with him before lunch. 

After lunch, comes the dreaded question. 

“Mommy, please please please can we go to the park?” He asks, hope on his face as he watches her, holding his breath in excitement. 

Mitis really shouldn’t go out in this weather. “Don’t you think it’s a bit cold for that today?” 

Cor purses his lips as he thinks about it for all of five seconds before turning back to her. 

“Nope!” He declares with a cheeky grin. 

No, of course not. 

Mitis sighs. “Well, maybe daddy can take you when he gets home.” 

“It will be dark!” Cor whines, knowing full well he’s not allowed to climb once the light starts to fade. 

Oh damn it, why is her kid so adorable? How is she meant to say no to him, when she might not even be here the next time snow falls? Mitis bites at her lip, completely torn. She shouldn’t. The risk it poses to her health is not insignificant, and she has already been pushing her luck lately to indulge her son. But even the thought of saying no to him makes her chest feel tight with guilt. She can’t say no to him, not on his birthday.

For the second time today, she bundles Cor up in his coat, hat, scarf and gloves and when she’s similarly dressed, they head out. 

The cold, crisp air makes Cor’s cheeks all rosy, and he chatters happily to her all the way to the park. When they’re there, Cor runs off to his beloved climbing frame. She lets him go, and watches from the ground as he plays as high up as he can get. Much to her surprise, after only about half an hour, Cor makes his way back to the ground, then sets about building another snowman.

“Mommy! Can you make him an angel friend?” Cor asks, running over to her and tugging gently on her coat. 

“Uh, sweetheart why don’t you do that?” Mitis asks him nervously. It’s bad enough really she’s come out, she can’t really get down in the snow and flail around.

“But you’re like an angel, so you’d make a better angel.” Cor whines. 

Mitis’ heart melts at the compliment. 

“Well, thank you, sweetheart. That’s a really nice thing to say.” She tells him, patting his head through his little woolen hat. Cor smiles up at her, leaning against her legs as he continues to hold onto her coat. “But you know, you’re an angel too. You’re my little angel.” 

Cor smiles again and giggles a little, rubbing his face against the soft fabric of Mitis’ coat.

“Mommy, how long will the snow last?” 

“I don’t know, Cor.” Mitis answers honestly. “When it gets too warm for snow, it will all melt.” 

“But it comes back?”

“If it gets cold enough. Go, enjoy it while it’s here.” 

Cor runs off to play again. Mitis watches him go, ignoring the cold invading her entire being. 

After that day, she never feels warm again.

* * *

Cor watches in silence as his daddy ties the laces on a pair of shiny black shoes for him. He wants to fidget because the shoes nor the clothes that his daddy has put him in are comfy. The trousers and shirt are soft, but they’re both baggier on his skin than he’s used to, and the black jacket - that isn’t a coat, his dad had said - feels heavy across his shoulders. Along with the thing his dad’s tied around his neck, Cor feels like he’s trapped and drowning in the clothes. But Daddy said he had to wear them today because it’s expected, and he didn’t want to hear Cor complaining. 

Cor doesn’t want to make his dad any more upset than he has been since Mommy left, so he keeps quiet. Cor’s chest is heavy with feelings he doesn’t understand, and although he’s been told what has happened to Mommy, he doesn’t understand that really, either. 

“Daddy?” He whispers uncertainly. Sometimes his daddy has ignored him since Mommy has gone, so he’s not sure if he should be trying to talk to him now at all. Cor isn’t sure of a lot of things at the moment. “You know you said Mommy went somewhere else?” 

His dad sighs, closing his eyes momentarily before he answers. “Yeah, what about it?” 

Cor bites at his lip. He feels like he wants to cry just thinking about his questions. “Where did she go?” 

“Oh, Cor.” Daddy says softly. He sets Cor’s feet back on the ground, the laces secure. He puts one warm hand on Cor’s knee and smiles at him. Cor doesn’t smile back, because he doesn’t feel happy. Then again, his daddy’s smile didn’t look all that happy. “Mommy has gone into the next life, kiddo. She’s dead. I thought you said you understood this when I told you.” 

“But where do you go when you’re dead?” 

“Well, Mommy’s body will be put in the ground. That’s what we’re getting ready for now, yeah? That’s called a funeral. It’s so us, and Mommy’s family and friends can all be sad she’s gone but we can all remember her too.” Tristis explains carefully. When his son nods slowly, he carries on. “But her soul has gone somewhere else. It’s not somewhere on Eos, though. It’s a very special place where good people get to go when they die. Some people call it heaven, some people call it the beyond, but what you need to remember is that Mommy is always watching over you, and she’ll always be here.” 

Tristis taps Cor’s chest gently, over his heart. Cor looks at where Tristis’ fingers rest against his shirt, but he doesn’t say anything. 

“Cor, do you understand now?” 

“Yes, Daddy.” His son whispers, still not looking up at him. “Can I ask another question?” 

Tristis nods, but he stands, picking up Cor as he does so. They’re going to be late if they don’t set off now. 

“Why did she die?” 

Tristis inhales sharply, trying to ignore the horrific pain that question brings. Given all the shit he’s had to do and organise since Mitis’ death, Tristis hasn’t had a chance to properly grieve for himself. Between trying to tell everyone who needed to know, and sorting out the funeral, and looking after an increasingly withdrawn Cor, he’s barely had time to process that his sweet wife is actually gone. 

“She was ill, Cor.” He says softly as he leaves the house. He locks the door, then begins the short walk to their local church, Cor still held securely in one arm. “She had an illness called cancer.” 

“Oh… so it wasn’t the cold?” Cor asks, tucking his head into Tristis’ neck. 

The cold? Tristis knows the severe temperature drop that brought snow on Cor’s birthday probably hadn’t helped Mitis’ health, but there is no way it caused her death. He’s not sure where Cor might have got that idea from. 

“No, kiddo. It wasn’t the cold.” He tells him. His heart cracks when he feels his son’s tears begin to soak into his shirt collar. “Oh, buddy. It’s okay.”

As he continues towards the church, he rubs Cor’s back gently, trying to sooth his distraught son. He honestly has no idea what to say or do to make Cor feel better. Mitis was always the one to deal with emotions, not him. He’d wondered why Cor had been so quiet these three weeks between her death and today, but now he realises that his little boy is only just coming to grips with the whole situation. The thought brings him nothing but a sense of failure. He thought he’d done an okay job explaining everything, but apparently not. Just another one of his shortcomings as a father. 

When Cor’s tears stop, they’re almost at the church, but Tristis can’t help his curiosity, so he asks the question that’s been on the forefront of his mind.

“Buddy, what made you think it was the cold?” 

Cor sniffs into his shoulder, then lifts his head, but he won’t look at Tristis. Instead, he looks down at his own chest. Tristis may not have been the parent to spend the most time with Cor in the five years they’ve had him, but he still recognises his son’s guilty stance. Now he’s really worried! If Cor’s somehow fathomed that this is all his fault… 

“Because we went to the park on my birthday in the snow, and then she stayed in bed, and now she’s gone!” Cor wails, reburying his head and throwing both his arms around Tristis’ neck. He’s sobbing now, and other guests are shooting them pitying looks as they walk through the graveyard. 

Tristis barely has time to feel upset about the looks, and the relatives all queuing up to give him useless platitudes, because he’s overtaken in a wave of resentful anger. 

Mitis hadn’t mentioned going to the fucking park! The park, really?! In the snow?! When the temperature had dropped below zero?! What the fuck had she been thinking? Now, Cor - he can understand Cor still asking to go, since Mitis had decided not to tell him about her health, but they’d never agreed that she’d say fucking yes! 

How could she  _ do  _ that to him? 

There’s no doubt in his mind that she fucking knew the consequences of taking Cor out… she knew it could kill her. She knew that he’d been terrified of losing her, and that it would be devastating for Cor, and she fucking did this anyway? 

At some point, some helpful family friend takes Cor off him and calms him down before they go inside for the service, but Tristis is hardly aware of that happening, or the service, or the burial. It all goes by in a haze while he stews in anger at this newfound information. 

It all makes sense now. Her health had suddenly taken a turn for the worse after Cor’s birthday, and she’d died merely four days later. Two weeks before fucking Christmas! Maybe he wouldn’t have spent the day so exhausted that the only food he could muster for the two of them was a sandwich if she hadn’t done that. He definitely wouldn’t have had to spend the day watching Cor look at the unopened presents under the tree in silence with tears in his eyes. Maybe he wouldn’t have had to field questions about why everyone else was so damn happy! Maybe he could’ve watched his son play with his new toys instead of worrying about finalising arrangements for the funeral. 

Tristis doesn’t say a word through the whole service, and he walks Cor home in silence when it’s all finished. He skips out on the wake he’d organised, because frankly if anyone tries to reminisce with him right now, he’s going to end up biting their heads off. Besides, Cor probably doesn’t want to be surrounded by relatives he doesn’t remember for any longer. 

Even though it’s only half four in the afternoon, he puts Cor in his pyjamas and gets ready for bed himself. He tells Cor that he’s going for a nap, and to wake him if he needs anything, and that Cor can go to bed whenever he wants. He expects to wake up to Cor cuddled up next to him in bed, because Cor has always helped himself into their bed when he’s upset. 

He doesn’t. He wakes up alone.

In hindsight, the day of his wife’s funeral is the day his son lost his father. 

* * *

Two years on from the death of his mom, and Cor can barely remember what she looked like. Most of his own memories of her are fuzzy, and his father had been pretty swift to take down all their family photos and lock them away after her funeral. 

Cor can’t remember that either. 

All he really knows of his mother is that she died of cancer. 

Most days he tries not to think about it, or her. But on days like these it’s hard not to. Every month, around the fifteenth, his dad will start taking stuff out of their house, and it never comes back. At first, it’s random ornaments, the now-empty photo frames, stuff that neither Cor or his dad will really miss. But just past the two year anniversary of her death, his dad is picking up other things. He takes books and dvds, and some of mom’s jewellery that had been kept in a box in his bedroom, and then he starts sorting through his old clothes. Cor watches him pile all the stuff in bags and boxes by the front door in silence. 

“Dad, what are you doing?” He asks quietly. Cor tenses, ready to make a quick getaway in case his dad has already been drinking the grown-up drinks he has in the kitchen. Cor doesn’t like it when his dad drinks those, because it makes him so angry, and sometimes he screams and shouts at Cor even though Cor hasn’t done anything wrong. 

“Getting rid of my old clothes. See, I have to pay this thing called rent, Cor. We have to pay rent to be able to live here, and we don’t have enough money, so I’m gonna sell all this to get enough money. Any more irritating questions?” 

Cor gulps and looks away. His dad has probably started to drink then, given the anger and sarcasm in his answer. He can’t help the growing tight feeling in his chest. He feels guilty. His dad has to do so much for him, and all Cor does is irritate him with questions. Feeling heat rise in his cheeks, he shakes his head then retreats from the doorway. He gets a dustbin bag from the kitchen, then makes his way to his bedroom quietly. 

He piles together all the toys he doesn’t play with, and the books he doesn’t read, and the clothes he doesn’t wear anymore, then slowly puts them in the bag. By the time he’s finished, it’s well past his usual bedtime and the bag is full. It takes him half an hour and all his strength to drag the bag out onto the landing. 

“Dad, can you help me get this downstairs?” He calls out, because there’s no way he can lift the bag. It’s far too heavy. 

Having finished his own packing a while ago, his dad appears at the bottom of the stairs, and to Cor’s dismay, he’s already mostly finished a bottle of his grown-up drink. 

“The fuck is it?” he slurs up at his son. 

Cor bites his lip as he nervously explains. “It’s old things. For you to get rent with.” 

For a long moment, his dad doesn’t respond. Cor fidgets nervously next to the bag on the landing, wondering if somehow he’d made a mistake. He’s about three seconds away from fleeing into his room and staying there for the night when his dad speaks again. 

“Why the fuck you done that?” 

Cor frowns at the poorly pronounced question. Truthfully, he isn’t sure why he’s done it. Because he feels guilty thinking about all the things his dad has set aside to be gotten rid of. Because he wants to make him proud, or happy, or less worried about money, at the very least. Because he wants to help, because he loves his dad, even if he isn’t sure anymore that his dad loves him. 

But his dad hates it when Cor talks about his feelings, so he says none of that. Instead, he says:

“I wanted to help get rent, because I live here too.” 

As he speaks, his dad drains the rest of the drink in his bottle. He glances at Cor as he lets the bottle slip from his hand. It hits the floor with a thud, but it doesn’t smash.

“Fucking hell, look at us.” He mutters, looking at the bottle with a blank expression. “What on Eos would your mother be saying if she were here?” 

Cor thinks about it for a minute. He searches back in his memories, but he can’t think of a single thing. He wants to say that she’d thank him for helping, since he knows that’s the polite thing to do, but something tells him that isn’t what his dad wants to hear. 

“I don’t know.” He replies unsteadily. 

“Me neither.” His dad huffs, finally making his way up the stairs. He grabs the bag with one hand and lifts it with ease as he turns on the top step and walks back down. “But, since you wanted to go to the park for your birthday, neither of us will ever find out.” 

Cor watches his dad dump the bag with the rest of the things before he saunters off into the living room. He had been about to follow him and spend some time with his dad, before he got too angry, but that comment… 

Had his mom not died just because of cancer? 

Did she really die because of that trip to the park on his birthday? 

He can remember begging to go, and he can remember just enough to realise that she had been hesitant to take him. 

Cor swallows, but it doesn’t help the queasy feeling in his belly. Tears begin to sting his eyes, and he abandons the idea of time with his dad in favour of running back into his room. He jumps between the covers, drawing them right up over his head and  _ cries _ . 

All Cor knows of his mother is that she died of cancer, and it was his fault. 

He never forgets that. 

* * *

“Leonis, go to the principal’s office now!” 

Cor violently pushes the teacher off him and storms away. He is furious, and he glares at everyone he passes, teachers and students alike. It’s fucking bullshit that he’s the one who’s gonna end up in trouble for this. He hates everyone in this stupid school, they’re all idiots! It’s not fair, not after what Parvos had said to him. His heart swells with grief, and tears begin to fill his eyes, which only makes him angrier with himself. He’s nine now, he shouldn’t be crying over this. 

Cor reaches the waiting room outside the office and takes a moment to scrub away the tears in his eyes before he knocks on the door. He hates this place more than anywhere else in the school. The stupid grey lino floor and the cream walls, the noticeboard that’s full of letters for parents and the best of the best kids’ work… it makes him want to be sick. He scowls fiercely at the chipped red paint of the door as he waits to be told to enter. 

“Oh Leonis, here again?” The principal sighs, and Cor turns to find her standing behind him. She looks as immaculate as ever in a grey skirt suit. She has a kind face, but the disappointed look she’s giving him only makes Cor resent her. 

He wouldn’t be here again if the teachers weren’t so stupid. 

When he doesn’t reply to her, she shakes her head a little then gestures for him to go into the office ahead of her. Cor yanks the door open with more force than necessary, but he does decide to hold it open for Mrs Briggs as she walks in. She thanks him quietly, and flinches when Cor lets the door slam shut. 

“Have a seat, Cor.” Mrs Briggs tells him gently as she organises papers on her desk. He hates this stupid little office as well, and he doesn’t even try to hide his anger as he throws himself into a chair. “So, what’s happened?”

“‘S not my fault!” Cor snaps at her, folding his arms across his chest as he slouches in the chair. 

“That’s for me to decide. Tell me what happened.” She replies firmly, her tone leaving no room for arguments. 

Cor sighs and kicks half-heartedly at the floor with one foot. Now he’s away from the fight, his anger is slowly fading, and in its place is the never-fading hurt he feels whenever he thinks about his mom. He hates that she’s gone, and since the other kids in his class found out, it’s been hell. 

“Parvos said that my mom is lucky to be dead so she doesn’t have to deal with me.” Cor admits slowly, and no matter how much he tries, he can’t hold back tears at the thought. He can’t remember much of his mom, but he knows she loved him. She always spent time with him, and she never thought he was a bother… or did she? 

Cor isn’t so sure, and it’s not like his dad will tell him either. He’s too busy drinking and getting fired from jobs to talk to Cor. 

“Well, that was a horrible thing for him to say to you, and I’m sure it’s not true.” Mrs Briggs says, passing him a tissue. Cor takes it and wipes his eyes with a mumbled thanks. “So when he said that, did you tell a teacher?” 

Cor shakes his head slowly. “I was going to. I was going to find one and then he called me a cry-baby snitch.” 

Mrs Briggs sighs heavily again. “Let me guess, so you started a fight.” 

“He deserved it!” Cor yells at her, too upset to even try and control how loudly he’s speaking. It’s not  _ fair! _ He stands up again, too wound up to stay still. He wants to hit something. He wants to whack and punch and kick until all these feelings in his chest are just gone because he can’t deal with this. His mom is dead, his dad hates him because it’s his fault she’s dead, and all the other kids his age treat him differently because of it. In a fit of rage, Cor turns and kicks at the wall until his leg is aching. “I hate him! I hate them all!” 

“Cor, stop that. Fighting and hurting yourself solves nothing.” Mrs Briggs tells him, catching his arm and moving him out of reach of the wall. Cor lets out an inarticulate yell, but he doesn’t fight her grip as she takes him back to the chair and sits him down. 

Cor breathes heavily, still angry, still hurting and guilty over the reminder of his mom and still hating that he’s in trouble. Mrs Briggs grabs a first aid kit from a drawer and crouches down in front of him. Gently, she rolls up his trouser leg and inspects for damage, but there isn’t any. It will probably bruise later, but Cor doesn’t care. She gets him to move his foot around and offers him an ice-pack for his ankle but he declines.

With that done she goes back to the other side of the desk and sits down heavily. “I understand that you are upset Cor, but hurting other people won’t make you feel better, nor will hurting yourself like that.” 

Cor looks at the floor. He knows she is right, because he doesn’t feel better at all. And worst of all, he knows she’s going to ring his dad about this, and then he’ll be in even more trouble. 

“Do you understand that what you did was wrong?” 

Cor nods sullenly without looking up. 

“Right. You and Parvos are going to say sorry to each other, and I will be speaking to both of your parents about this. Go on, go back outside. I will fetch you boys out of class to apologise to each other later.” 

Cor leaves as quick as he can, making his way back onto the playground in silence. He finds a secluded little corner and just sits, hugging his knees tightly to his chest. He still feels all kinds of upset, and he really doesn’t want to go back to class this afternoon, but if he doesn’t it will only be worse when he has to face his dad. 

He keeps to himself for the rest of the day, just doing his work quietly. His teacher asks him if he wants some time-out, and even offers to let him do his work in the library if it will make him feel better, but he just shakes his head. The last thing he needs is to give Parvos and his friends another reason to pick on him. 

Saying sorry to Parvos sucks, but he does it with minimal fuss. Both boys know they don’t really mean what they’re saying anyway. Cor doesn’t even kick off when Parvos’ mom - after watching their apologies - snottily demands to know how Cor is being punished. When Mrs Briggs defends her decision to let it go due to the upsetting nature of the remark Parvos made, she accuses Cor of lying about the incident, insisting that her darling angel would never be so mean. 

Cor just walks out. 

He doesn’t go back for his coat or his things, he just pushes past Parvos’ parents and leaves. He ignores Mrs Briggs calling for him to come back and following him. It’s not like he’s going to leave school grounds - the only other place he has to go is home, and he doesn’t want to deal with his dad right now - but like hell is he staying in that room any longer. He reaches the tree at the edge of the playground and climbs up as far as he can go. Mrs Briggs tries to talk him into coming down, but when Cor continues to ignore her she leaves him be. 

When the final bell rings and other kids start piling onto the playground to find their parents, his teacher walks out with his things and goes straight to his dad. Great, now he’s going to be told off for skipping class as well as fighting. Cor watches as together they walk over to the tree, but he makes no move to get down. 

“Cor, your dad’s here to take you home!”

Cor rolls his eyes at the false cheeriness in her tone. He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even move. He can hear them talking, but even though he strains his ears he can’t make out any words. 

He doesn’t have to. Before long, the leaves below him start rustling, and Cor watches in silence as his dad joins him in the tree. 

“What the hell are you playing at, lad?” He hisses, making sure his teacher below can’t hear the venom in his voice. “Get fucking down now! You’re in enough trouble without pissing me around.”

Even though he knows his dad hates talking about his mom, and feelings, Cor needs answers. The pain in his heart still hasn’t gone away.

“Is Mom really lucky to not have to deal with me?” He blurts out, clinging onto the tree trunk. He’s scared of the answer. 

His dad sighs and shifts his weight in the branches. 

“At this precise moment in time, probably yes!” He spits, and even from here, Cor can smell the alcohol on his breath. 

Tears sting his eyes again, and he looks away, trying to swallow past the lump in his throat. 

“Fucking hell. Cor, don’t cry.” His dad says, climbing closer to him. “That was a fucking joke, okay? Come on, get down, and we’ll just go home, and you can forget about the stupid kid. If you get out the tree in the next minute, I won’t even get mad about this, okay?”

Cor sniffs, but he nods miserably and scales down the tree the way he came. When he reaches the ground, he picks up his stuff and sets off towards the gates, completely ignoring his teacher. His dad walks after him in silence. 

At home, Cor picks forlornly at his food. He feels rotten, and despite his promise, his dad does yell at him. He tells him that he’s stupid for believing Parvos, and even stupider again for fighting him. He screams that he’s meant to be a big boy now, and big boys don’t hide up trees and cry like girls. He tells Cor that he’s sick to the back teeth of his behaviour, then he sends him up to bed at five o'clock. He doesn’t even let Cor stay up to do his homework. 

* * *

Cor isn’t entirely sure why he starts skipping school. 

One day he just cannot bear the thought of going in, so he doesn’t. He’s expecting to come home to a hiding when he slinks back into the house at four, but his dad is either too pissed to care or the school never contacted him. 

It could be either. The school isn’t brilliant. But that is its only redeeming factor in his father’s eyes, because a shitty school means a cheap school. For Cor, it’s good because he can get away with a lot of shit without the teachers really caring. He hasn’t handed in a single piece of homework in the last year, and he’s had absolutely no consequences for it. 

He loves this newfound freedom, though. He spends his days wandering through the back alleys of Insomnia, in all the crappy, rundown parts of the city where the low-lifes and criminals live, and he learns more about life than he thinks he ever could in a school.

Being twelve, he’s got a chip on his shoulder for the world, and especially those who try to tell him what to do. In the slums, no-one bothers him. As long as he’s not causing trouble, everyone here leaves him be. In the end he gets drawn to the illegal bare-fist boxing matches that are happening all over the place. They’re exciting to watch, and he loves the thrill of the fights, standing in the crowds and cheering when participants go down. He never considers fighting in them at first- he’s still not hit a growth spurt, and most of the other fighters are well-built men in their thirties and forties, they’d thrash him - but when he sees the wads of cash given out to the winning boxers, he can’t help himself. 

His father has been fired yet again for missing his shifts and being drunk in the workplace, and the final demands for the rent are going to come through the letterbox any day now. Looking at the winnings though, Cor would only need to win one fight. Just one. 

He knows the fights are illegal, but then again, so is truanting, so that ship has already sailed. Cor works up the nerve to approach one of the most successful boxers he’s seen and asks to be taught how to fight. 

It takes a while, but eventually the guy caves, and he leads Cor to a deserted street and shows him the basics. After an hour, he admits that Cor seems to have some potential, and tells him that for a cut of his winnings, he’ll continue to teach Cor. 

“Oh, but, lose the uniform.” He tells him, gesturing at Cor’s school shirt and tie. Cor nods and thanks him, and that’s how it starts. After only a couple of weeks of training, the boxer - Rixa - enters him in a fight. 

His opponent is a seasoned boxer, and built like a tank. He towers over Cor, and his lean and well-muscled frame makes Cor think that maybe this was a mistake. He glances back at Rixa, and gets an encouraging nod. It’s too late to back out now, anyway. With a gulp, Cor turns back to the other man, and steps into the ring. He keeps Rixa’s training in mind and waits nervously for the fight to begin. 

When the whistle blows, he goes for it. He steps in close, and stays there, dancing agilely in and out of range of the other man. Because Cor’s still so small, whenever he’s in close, his opponent can’t land any proper blows on him, but Cor can. He smashes his fists into the man’s chest as much as he can, always aiming just below the rib-cage to try and wind him, just like Rixa taught him. 

There aren’t any rules in bare-fist boxing, so Cor uses anything and everything he has. The only thing they have to worry about is staying in the ring, which is just a chalk circle on the floor. If Cor can get the guy out of the ring, or on the floor and unable to get up within five seconds, then he’s done it. He takes a fair few hits himself, but he finds the pain grounding, and it makes him feel alive. His nerves are singing, and despite the fatigue beginning to set in, he finds himself grinning madly.

Against all the odds, Cor wins. The crowd goes wild, and more money than Cor has ever seen in his life changes hands as people pay up their bets, too stunned to try and argue their way out of it like they usually do. The odds had been pretty amazing. Fifty to one against him. Because Rixa and his gang of associates bet for him to win, they’ve won loads. Even when Rixa takes his cut, Cor has more than enough money to pay the rent demands and the bills which are piling up at home. 

It’s brilliant. 

He goes back for more and keeps going back, and he keeps winning. He keeps the roof over his and his dad’s heads, and he keeps food on the table and bills paid, even though his dad never even starts looking for another job. His dad never asks where the money comes from, or why Cor sells his school uniform. He doesn’t even bat an eyelid when Cor logs into his dad’s online bank account and stops the payments to the school. When he’s done that, they have more than enough money to go around, so he enters fewer fights. He does and doesn’t have a choice in that. He wants to cut down the number anyway, since the more he fights the higher his chances of getting caught are, but also he’s earned a bit of a reputation, and fewer people are willing to fight him now. 

Rixa explains that it was bound to happen, and says he can set Cor up with a well-paying job if he needs the money. Cor turns him down. He might have dropped out of school six years early, but he’s not stupid. He doesn’t want to get dragged into anything more illegal than this. After one of his final fights, Cor asks Rixa how he learnt to fight, and he says he learnt for King and country. There’s something horribly bitter about his tone, so Cor drops the subject, but later, one of Rixa’s cronies takes him aside and says that they both used to serve in the Crownsguard, but the fights were harder, and the pay was less. 

It puts an idea in Cor’s head though. While he’s glad he doesn’t have to worry about money anymore, he’s not wholly comfortable with breaking the law like this. If he ever did get caught… 

It’s not like he needs a _lot_ of money. He has grown up used to not having much, and it means that now he’s old enough to understand how rent and bills work, he’s pretty good at only buying what he needs. When he gets up the next day, he wanders into town and sneaks into a job centre. He leaves again with a handful of leaflets and goes to the library to read them. The library is always empty at this time of day, so no one disturbs him as he sits with a pad of paper and a pencil, and calculates whether the wages will pay what he needs. 

They will. 

By the end of the week, he’s lied about his age on his enlistment form, forged his dad’s signature in the parental consent box, and posted it. 

A week before his thirteenth birthday, Cor gets invited to the Citadel for recruit try-outs. The Marshal of the Crownsguard explains to him and a bunch of sixteen and seventeen year-olds that in order to be allowed to join before the age of eighteen, they must show potential. They all get grilled with questions about information they provided in their forms - Cor gets a lot of schtick about how small he is for a sixteen-year-old, but he keeps brushing it off calmly, and eventually the Marshal lets it slide - and then they’re split into pairs for sparring. There will be knock-out matches, and only the top five candidates will be allowed to join. His opponent sizes him up with glee as the rules are explained to them. 

Cor wipes the floor with him. 

He wipes the floor with all of them, and is the best of the top five. 

A week after his thirteenth birthday, Cor begins full-time, paid training. 

Three months later sees him leaving a bunch of purple and yellow flowers on his mother’s grave. He stands proud in his new uniform, his katana safely strapped to his belt. By his feet, his kit bag is packed, full to the brim. It’s mostly weapons, and cleaning kits, along with a spare uniform. There’s not much more he would want to take to war, even if he could. 

When he’d told his dad where he was going, he’d just gotten a grunt. 

_ “Don’t die.” _ He’d said as Cor opened the door. For a moment, Cor turned back, thinking - hoping, stupidly - that his dad was about to say he loved him.  _ “I’ve gotten used to not working.”  _

Right. Because if Cor died, they’d stop paying his wages, and his dad would be left penniless. He hadn’t bothered replying. 

“Well, Mom. This is it.” Cor sighs, shouldering his bag as he gets ready to leave. “Maybe I’ll see you soon.” 

With that, Cor walks out of the graveyard and heads to the Citadel, where they’ll be transported to the front lines. 

He never looks back.


End file.
